


Hold me tight (don't let go)

by Tuvstarrs



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, LLF Comment Project, MDD, Mental Illness, Mentions of the HHB, PTSD, Subtle Hakona, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuvstarrs/pseuds/Tuvstarrs
Summary: The weight of everything they have been through is beginning to cripple the princess, and her loyal bodyguard is standing by, watching her helplessly as he struggles to find a way to comfort her. Subtle Hakona, but can be interpreted as platonic friendship. AU-ish from chap 134, though events from 144 are included. Warning! Contains triggers in the form of depictions of mental illness.





	Hold me tight (don't let go)

**Author's Note:**

> Briere and Scott (2006) described trauma as major events that are psychologically overwhelming for an individual.
> 
> Warning! Includes triggers! Acute stress disorder/post-traumatic stress disorder/complex post-traumatic disorder/ kind off/unofficially, and comorbidity of major depressive disorder. Dissociation, panic attacks, disrupted cognitive and emotional functioning, physical symptoms, partial amnesia, and several other symptoms of PTSD and MDD included.  
> Warning! Spoilers for the manga up to chapter 144. 
> 
> And yes, I know, I know. She is supposed to be invincible, something as trite as overwhelming, repeated trauma would never faze her, right? Yona is a force that never wavers; she has a cry and picks herself up. I know that; just roll with me here, ‘kay? Also, although I am referencing recent events from the manga, this is not how I imagine the manga will go. This is just a “what if” scenario in which I’ve tried to add a touch of realism to the usual ‘invincible protagonist trope.’
> 
> Furthermore, in this fic I have stepped out of my comfort zone and experimented with writing in present tense. I do hope it is not too confusing and awkward to read, but please do not be afraid to let me know how you feel, good or bad, as long as it’s constructive.

_In hindsight, the signs had all been there, Hak thought._

_Yet, in the beginning, they were small enough to miss if you weren’t looking for them, and while he was always more or less focused on her. Perhaps he had failed to notice the subtle hints as it seemed she didn’t want him to find them._

_The way she held herself with dignity even though her clothes were in rags and it’d been days since she’d eaten or washed herself… Her gentle smile, reassuring and kind, purposely hid the darker thoughts beginning to emerge and devour her from within._

_With all the terrifying events they had lived through, it was easy to forget._

_She was just a young girl who, up until a few short months ago, had never experienced pain, had never known hunger, and had never felt true, gut-wrenching distress._

_The panic attack should have been a sign. Yet it wasn’t. With everything that had happened, it was easily rationalised as a natural reaction to a highly stressful event._

_…_

Hak first realises that something is wrong as they travel back to meet with _that man_ , the king. The rest of their group is imprisoned and wounded, and on her thin shoulders lies the heavy responsibility of stopping a war before it breaks out. It is far too much to ask of a sixteen-year-old girl. Yet there is no one else, so she endures, just like she always does. He assumes it’s the stress of the situation that is making her push herself beyond her breaking point. She is hyperventilating, and almost collapses in his arms, crying hysterically and stammering some nonsense about not being strong enough. He doesn’t understand where those feelings are coming from; in his eyes she is the strongest of them all, but she isn’t listening when he tries to tell her that.

It takes him several hours to calm her down. He insists that she rest, and believes that she will feel better in the morning.

She does.

For a while.

Until the night terrors start.

At first, he doesn’t understand what is wrong. Something wakes him. On high alert, his hand clutches his knife before he even opens his eyes. His muscles tense and his heartbeat pounds in his ears: is it an attack?

No, there are no noises coming from outside the small tent. Still wary, he sits up; eyes darting around in the darkness, intensely searching for anything abnormal, trying to identify what had stirred him. A small noise from the princess pulls his attention from the surroundings outside, to the sleeping form beside him. The princess is mumbling in her sleep. Her eyes, while remaining closed, flutter restlessly. Then she begins to sob, quickly working herself up into a frenzy, though still not waking up. It feels like someone is grabbing his heart and ripping it right out of his chest, crushing it under the weight of seeing her in pain. He shakes her gently, and when she sits up in shock, eyes wide and tear-filled, it only takes a moment’s hesitation for him to decide. He takes her in his arms, whispering calming nonsense as she sobs hysterically into his shoulder.

Besides his comforting murmurs in her ear, neither speaks. He doesn’t ask what troubles her, and she doesn’t offer an explanation. She just frantically clutches his tunic, digging her fingers into his sides and he can feel her nails scraping his skin through the fabric.

Neither sleeps that night.

The second night, when her muffled sobs pull him out of his sleep again, he doesn’t hesitate, quickly shaking her awake.

“Hey, hey, calm down, you were having a nightmare. It wasn’t real.”

“H-hak?”

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s okay. It was just a nightmare,” he smiles reassuringly into the darkness and opens his arms for her, and she quickly takes him up on his offer, throwing herself into his calm, comforting embrace.

“Want to talk about it?” He asks, because even though last night she clearly showed that she held no overt desire to explain herself, he still wants to offer. He isn’t overly surprised however, when her only answer consists of a muffled sob and a head-shake into his shoulder. She clearly isn’t ready to verbally express what haunts her sleep. So he doesn’t push her, just holds her closer, wordlessly communicating through the physical contact that he is there for her, that she is okay, and that he will never allow anything to happen to her. At some point her erratic gasps slow down and pained sobs gradually fade into silence as she surrenders to exhaustion.

While she, thankfully, has succumbed to sleep, he stays awake, only dozing off as the birds signal a new day’s approach.

The next day they separate. She goes to see _that man_ , the _bastard Soo-Won_ , and he has to go to the Wind tribe.

The whole time they are separated, he’s on edge. His mind is constantly conjuring up the most horrifying scenarios, and he thinks he might actually go insane because she went alone. Or… well, Algira is with her, but it still isn’t him. The days begin to blur together and the lack of news is, to say the least, disturbing.

…

The second attack- at least he thinks it is only the second: he can’t be sure how she fared while they were apart- takes him completely by surprise.

She walks into the room where he is being treated for his arrow wounds - damn it, they hurt- by Yoon. The boy genius is just about to finish stitching the one on his shoulder, fastening the thread as the princess walks in.

…

Seeing Hak sitting on the floor, half naked and suppressing a wince when Yoon accidentally pulls a little too hard, Yona feelss oddly detached.

It is like someone else moves her limbs, pushing her closer to Hak and Yoon and sitting her down next to them. It isn’t her decision to approach them at all, and she isn’t even sure that she wants to, but still her body moves on its own.

Her eyes trails along his back and shoulders, seeing the deep, painful wounds he received while protecting her. His collection of scars is growing; paralleling the time he spends by her side, just like the dragons. Her friends are constantly suffering, because of her. Her friends have been held hostages for too long, while badly injured. Jae-Ha and Kija is still recovering, and Shinah can barely move.

She moves closer again, the odd feeling of not being fully in charge of her actions still remaining, and lifts a trembling hand to touch the stitches. When her fingers trail across his shoulder, brushing past the old scar, half hidden under the new wound, she sees Hak and Yoon share a concerned look from the corner of her eyes.

She knows she is behaving oddly, this isn’t how she usually interacts with her bodyguard, but for some reason, it doesn’t matter.

This is what being close to her leads too, nothing but agony and suffering. The thought of his pain almost physically hurts her, darkening her already clouded thoughts and pulling her down further into the sickeningly terrifying pit of self-blame, self-doubt, and shame.

She vaguely notices Hak nodding to Yoon towards the door, signalling a request, a need, for solitude, but she can’t bring herself to care.

The things she can bring herself to care about nowadays are rapidly decreasing, it seems.

When he touches her, gently nudging her shoulder, his blue eyes searching her own, silently asking her what she is doing, she doesn’t have an answer.

She isn’t aware of how much time passes while she is staring at his scars, or even that he shifts, until she feels him grabbing her shoulders forcibly.

“Look at me, Princess, look at me! Calm down, breathe. You’re working yourself up for nothing. Calm down and breathe for me,” he orders, letting go of one shoulder to grab her chin, lifting it up so that she looks into his eyes.

What is he saying? She isn’t worked up? She’s completely calm. She’s scared, but calm.

While she can hear his voice, clear and strong, somehow the words don’t seem to reach her, they don’t concern her. It’s as if he is talking to someone else, in another part of the room, detached and cut off from her.

“Princess, I need you to calm down, damn it. You’re hyperventilating. Listen to my voice and breathe with me, okay?” His deep voice persists, he is expecting to be obeyed, and he takes her hand, leading it to his chest, spreading out petite, trembling fingers and presses her palm against his bare skin.

She distantly notes that he is warm. Even as he is sitting on the floor, half-naked in the chill of the autumn dawn, he is radiating warmth, like the sun in spring-time, welcoming and inviting.

There is comfort in that thought. Hak is always warm.

“Breathe with me, just focus on my breathing. You’re okay. Just breathe with me.”

_’Hyperventilating?’_

As she follows his orders, and focuses on her breathing, she notices that it has indeed sped up at some point, into a harried, shallow pace. Oh, so she is actually hyperventilating. That explains the tightness of her chest and the way her heart is pounding so loudly in her hears that it almost drowns out his voice completely.

_Thump thump thump._

She is indeed having a panic attack, another one.

_Thump thump thump._

He lets go of her hand in order to wrap his arms around her again, pressing her close to him, to his strong, reassuring embrace, and in that moment, everything comes crashing down on her.

She is so ridiculously, paralysingly scared to her very core.

Memories flicker by, of tight spaces and darkness, of being tied up, and an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Images replay themselves in her mind, images of Lili being abused and of a thick loop pulled over her head. Of grinning men with manic eyes forcing her down on the ground, toying with her sanity.

She can still feel the whip whine across her skin, stinging and burning. The scar on her back is aching, a reminder of how fragile she really is. How close to death and non-existence she is at any given moment.

Suddenly the room is too small, too dark, and too suffocating. She can’t breathe. She gasps for air and cradles her head, trying to shut out the unwelcoming memories and sensations. She doesn’t want them. She can’t handle them. They are choking her and crushing her with never-ending waves of fear and anxiety that squeezes her chest too tight.

Tears burst forward; stinging her eyes and coating her cheeks in salty wetness.

She doesn’t care.

She sobs into his chest, trembling uncontrollably. Letting go of her head and latching onto the only thing stable in her world she clutches at him with desperate frenzy, her own heartbeat pounding in her ears drowning out everything he’s telling her, and yet he persists.

She can feel his steady heart-beat with her cheek pressed against his naked chest.

The sensation of skin to skin helps reassure her that he is really there. Feeling his warm, strong arms holding her close, hearing his hushed voice, so familiar and comforting, whispering out comforting platitudes, and feeling his slow, even breathing helps her focus on her own. It soothes the turmoil in her.

He is grounding her.

Her only safe haven is him, and his embrace is all she has.

Once she finally starts to relax, the adrenaline pumping through her system ebbing out, she takes one shaky, deep breath, and sighs into his chest. Her whole body is going lax as she settles into his arms once more.

…

He can feel her grow weary in his arms, her breathing slowly settling into a more peaceful pace, and she soon drifts off to sleep. The attack having obviously drained her off all her resources and completely exhausted her.

She falls asleep in his arms, just like the last time. His mind is working feverishly to understand what’s happening, why she’s reacting like this, and he starts adding the events together.

The distant look in her eyes, the nightmares, and the panic attacks, it had all started after the fort incident in Sei. The events of her capture might have traumatised her more than anyone could have guessed. She could have hid her fears and terrors, not wanting to worry the others, and it may well have built up inside her over time. The nightmares had started after the dragons and Yoon had been taken as hostages... Is she dreaming of them? Could their imprisonment be a trigger to her distress, bringing back still fairly fresh memories of her own capture?

It does seem plausible.

He is often bragging about his lady’s strength, he is so proud of her, but not long ago she had never felt fear, or hunger. Her adaptability is astounding, but it really isn’t that odd if the burden of it all is starting to weigh on her.

She is, after all, just a sixteen-year-old girl.

While he isn’t that much older himself, he has lived a life far better preparing him for dealing with obstacles, and even so, his own rage and despair has near consumed him more than once…

He thinks back to the most recent development, the assassination attempt, and tries to incorporate it into his analysis. When they were finally reunited again, after she had arranged for the negotiations between Soo-Won and Princess Kouren, they barely had time to say hi before hell broke loose. They went to see Princess Kouren, only to be caught up in the schemings of the creepy-looking monks, but she had seemed fine during the confrontation, remaining calm while taking action, even kicking up a fucking table to shield them…

Something isn’t completely adding up, Hak thinks. Is it the aftermath? Is that the missing piece? Once the adrenaline deserts her body and she is given time to process the danger, this is how she reacts?

It seems plausible too, he supposes.

He doesn’t know how to help her. He knows how to keep her physically safe. To shield her from danger is his job, but how can he help her when the demons haunting her reside within, existing only in her mind?

…

The next attack comes to pass right after Shinah has been hurt in a scrap with the anti-war faction, who still argue that Princess Kouren stepping down, or losing her head, will be the best for Xing. It isn’t a serious wound, but it still sends Yona reeling, and Hak nods for Yoon to take over while he removes the princess from the upsetting sight.

As the weeks go by, the nightmares grow worse.

The panic attacks grow more frequent.

Hak is struggling to find the triggers; they seem so random, hitting the princess sporadically. Then, after a while, he thinks he’s starting to distinguish a pattern. She always holds it together during intense situations, such as when they argue for a treaty, but as soon as they step out of the room, her hand darts out to find his. It only takes one look at her wide eyes and trembling lips for him to understand what she is trying to tell him, and he drags her away from the scrutinizing gazes of the others. Just in time too: as he steps outside and pulls her around the corner of the house, he feels her petite hand begin to tremble in his, and he hears the first sobs escaping.

This can’t go on; he is ready to rip out his hair in frustration. The helplessness he feels at seeing her hurting like this gnaws at him, berating him for his inability to soothe her troubles away and mocking him for not understanding what he should be doing to help her heal.

How do you protect someone from the darkness of their own mind?

“I know you’re hurting, Princess, but you have to talk to me. I can’t help you otherwise,” he mumbles into her hair as he gently strokes her back, having learned that this is the best way to calm her down, and he can feel her sucking in a shaky breath:

“I-I don’t know. I can’t take it anymore. Everybody is getting hurt because of me. No one would be hurt if they had not decided to come with me, Shinah, Jae-Ha, Kija, Zeno, and even Yoon,” she blurts out, trying to make sense of her own mind and of the thoughts that claw at her sanity.

“Hey, they are here of their own free will. No one’s forcing them. I don’t-”

“You’re the worst!” She almost screams, and he jerks back slightly in apprehensive surprise at the harsh words.

Why is she angry with him now? He is trying to be supportive, even though he has no real idea of what’s going on.

“…I don’t understand, what have I done now?” he asks, frowning.

“You are always getting hurt because of me! I can’t protect you, even though you are the one that mean the most to me. I can’t bear the thought of you not being here,” she sobs, trembling fingers clutching desperately at his tunic. “It scares me. I am so afraid. I dream of you, laying still and not reacting when I call your name, covered in blood. I dream of Lily being hanged. I dream of the slave handlers in Sei. I dream of Yoon getting hurt by the traffickers in Awa, of being kidnapped and… I- I… can’t breathe.”

“Hey hey, calm down. Breathe with me. You’re safe. You’re here with me,” he hushes.

His thoughts are a jumbled mess.

One part of him tries to reason logically: So he had been right, sort of. Her panic attacks are stemming from the fact that she doesn’t feel safe.

That thought hurts.

More than he could ever have imagined it would. The knowledge feels like a punch in the gut, making him want to keel over and vomit. She doesn’t feel safe because he isn’t good enough at protecting her. If he had stayed with her that day, and not rushed out to help with the accident, if he hadn’t played right into their hands, then she wouldn’t have been kidnapped, and she wouldn’t suffer like this now.

It’s his fault.

He can’t linger on the subject though. He has to calm her down. Get her to trust him again.

The other part of him can’t help coming back to her words: “You mean the most to me.” It’s a confession made out of desperation, and one he has to push away for the moment. It is secondary to her wellbeing.

“Princess, you’re safe. The others are okay. You don’t have to feel guilty, or scared. We’re here because we want to be,” he tries to reason, stroking her hair soothingly.

“B-But what’s going to happen t-tomorrow. I-I can’t keep going like this. W-What if you get h-hurt t-tomorrow?” She stammers out between sobs.

“Oi, give me some credit, please,” he replies without missing a beat, putting on his cocky-confidence-show in order to ensure her that he is just fine. “I won’t be offed’ _that_ easily.”

For naught, she just clutches his tunic harder, pulling him closer.

“I-I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t. I will never leave your side, Princess. I will always stick annoyingly close to you. I am after all, the Thunder beast, and the Dark dragon. I’m not _that_ easy to kill,” he reassures confidently, and finally, _finally_ , it seems like she starts to calm down, distracted by his boastful persona.

“Idiot,” she offers in weak reply, a faint exhale followed by a sniffle.

He can’t help but grin into her hair. If she feels well enough to insult him, the spell must be waning.

“Tsk, is that a way to talk to your loyal servant?” He chuckles, receiving nothing but a light punch in his ribcage in response.

…

The dragons and Yoon soon learn that whenever she purposely searches Hak’s physical contact, they need space.

She starts to pull away from the rest of the group, while it’s impossible to completely shy away from them, their travel arrangements making it so, she gradually begins to interact less and less with everybody but Hak.

She knows she shouldn’t. Nothing good will come from isolating herself from her friends.

She can hear them muttering between themselves, voices kept low and filled concern. She can feel their worried glances, even though it’s obvious that they are trying to make it appear inconspicuous, but she just doesn’t have it in her to care. She is so tired, the endless nightmares effectively cutting of every chance of sleep, and more often than not, she spends the night staring into the ceiling of the tent, desperately willing herself not to fall asleep and pushing down on the growing restlessness. She spends the days in a detached haze, carrying a bone-deep fatigue that makes her limbs feel like lead and the day overwhelmingly long.

She’s sinking. She knows that, but she had no idea of how to stop it, or even if she cares enough to try.

Her only safe-haven is him.

Only in his arms the suppressing heavy weight of the world doesn’t seem so devastating. She finds herself searching him out more and more. She craves his warmth to counteract the icy detachment that is growing ever stronger in her mind. She needs to feel his strong arms around her, hear his deep, calm voice reassure her that he is fine, that they are all fine, and that she has nothing to worry about.

It is interesting, in a way, how quickly awkward and unfamiliar can turn into reassuring, wonted relief. Their relationship has somehow shifted, again, and she doesn’t mind. She has always found comfort and support in him, and when they left the castle, he had been her life-line, but this is different yet again. This is the anchor providing a crucial stable point in the middle of a storm she isn’t sure how to ride, giving her the balance she desperately needs when everything is spinning. When she stumbles, he is there to catch her, and when she is sure she can’t go on, he lends his hand to help her hold herself upright.

He is reliability personified, and she is grateful.

…

Breaking point befalls when she realises that she can’t eat. If she takes even one bite of the roasted hare Shinah has caught, she will vomit. Over time she has noticed that she has lost most of her appetite, but this is the first time she feels sick at the thought of food. Nausea overwhelms her, making her stomach twitch in discomfort and her mouth salivate as her body prepares itself for the purge. She quickly pushes the plate away with one hand while the other flies up to cover her mouth. She is not going to puke in front of everybody; skipping dinner is the far more desirable option.

The others observe her reaction, _of course_ , and while they remain quiet, she can feel Hak moving towards her.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Why aren’t you eating?” He probes, crossing his arms in frustration and frowning down on her.

“Not hungry,” she mutters, staring at the ground and trying not to think about how he towers over her.

_Thump thump thump._

Her heart is pounding loudly in her ears and the familiar clasp around her ribcage makes it harder to breathe.

_Thump thump thump thump._

Her mind is shutting off. Darkness is taking over; looming in the corner of her eyes and narrowing her vision. Everything fades except the exhilarated sound of her own heartbeat screaming at her from the inside.

_Thump thump thump thump thump._

…

“Princess, you-” Hak starts, but falters when he sees how quickly she goes into _that_ mode.

The realisation that he is the reason this time hits him squarely in the gut. Swallowing his frustration, he squats so that he is eye-level with her. He hesitates; will approaching her make her more upset?

“Guys? Mind if you take a quick hike?” He asks over his shoulder, and when the others hastily stand and wordlessly leave the camp, he returns his focus on the young girl in front of him. She is breathing far too shallow and fast, and her whole body is shaking. He wants to reach out to her, but seeing how she tense when he moves, he is clearly unsettling her somehow. The image of a frightened horse comes to mind, and as ridiculous as the thought is, he still follows his instincts, slowing down his movements and sloughing his shoulders to appear smaller, less intimidating.

“Princess, would you like me to leave for a bit?” He asks gently, making it clear that she is in control, though he doesn’t anticipate the reaction his suggestion brings.

She throws herself in his arms in panic: “Do-don’t leave me alone, please, don’t.”

Taken aback by her sudden switch in demeanour and still leaning on his heels, he is unprepared for the unexpected assault and loses his balance. They both topple over, stirring up a cloud of dust in the process and just missing getting singed by the campfire as they land on the ground next to it. Hak’s eyes widen and he grunts as the impact knocks the air out of his lungs. It takes him a moment to gather his bearings. When he does, he looks up to see her shaking violently in what seem to be pure panic, lavender eyes wide and chapped lips trembling.

“Princess, hey, calm down. What is it?”

“D-don’t leave me,” she sobs, burying her face in his chest, and he sighs tiredly.

“Not unless you order me to,” he reassures, lifting a hand to pat her hair, and beyond the comforting strokes, neither moves, or speaks, until he can feel her trembling body slowly relaxing and the sobbing quietening down to the occasional sniffle.

Once she calms down, the spell having waned, for now, he lifts her up off his chest and sits up himself so that he can pull her into a gentle hug.

“This can’t go on, you know. I don’t understand. None of us do. What can we do to help you?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles and buries herself deeper into his hug. He strokes her back and leans his chin on the top of her head as they settle into the embrace, her seeking comfort and him losing himself in deep thought. Zeno had told them of soldiers coming back from wars without physical wounds but with a broken mind, and suggested that something similar could be the cause of the princess’ distress. Had everything they been through left scars on her mind? And was there a way to fix it if it was? Zeno had said that given time, and help, to heal, even the most broken could eventually come around, but he hadn’t specified how long it would take, and the princess was most likely not going to accept turning away from Kuoka for an extended period of time. However, now that the Xing conflict had been settled, the kingdom is no longer teetering on the verge of war, and, a lot thanks to Soo-Won he has to admit, in no immediate danger of complete breakdown.

An idea pops into his mind.

“Hey, what about going to visit the priest again? Would you like that?”

After what seem like a moment of contemplation, he can feel the princess disengage herself from the hug enough for her to look up at him and nod.

“That sounds like a good idea, I think I’d like that,” she confirms, before settling into his embrace again.

A trip without the looming threat of death, and having to shoulder so many burdens, will hopefully prove beneficial for the princess...

**Author's Note:**

> This time I’ve been lucky enough to receive input from two fantastic writers, ZePuKa and fanofthisfiction. I can highly recommend their work, both are wonderful writers and I am more than grateful for their help and support. 
> 
> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
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